Morning After
by MiHnn
Summary: The true test is not waking up the next morning and trying to figure out what had happened the night before, it is facing the person you were doing it with. - HHr One shot.


**A/N - For those who read my story 'Eight of Wands' and favourited it, I'm sorry but I had to take it off this site for the time being. I wrote it for a fest and I got the dates mixed up as to when I could post it on other sites. Not for another few weeks, it turns out. Anyways, here's another one shot. It's something fun and... *coughkinkycough*  
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**Warning : Written for the Spring Kink Fest over at LJ. Does that mean that this is Porn Without Plot? Why, yes...Yes, it does ;)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I never wrote stuff on napkins like JKR.**

**Prompt :** Love Potion. He still doesn't know who slipped him a potion, all he knows that he slept with Hermione...and she wanted him.

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><p><em><strong>Morning After<br>**_

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There were several things that Harry had to contemplate as he blinked up at the ceiling. He was currently in a bed, naked, there was a woman beside him in that same bed, naked, and the naked woman who was lying beside him fast asleep (naked) was none other than his best friend who he had never ever seen naked.

He wasn't sure, but there was a chance that he might be suffering from a mild heart attack.  
>It had been a while since he had woken up groggily, images from the night before bombarding his brain so fast that he was getting a thrumming headache. He had then reached for his glasses –which took some time to find – before he placed it carefully on his nose, turned around, saw the woman beside him and froze.<p>

He had simply stared at her exposed back, from the messy, unruly brown curls, the soft skin of her exposed back, down to her shapely arse that was hidden under a thin sheet. He stared at that part of her for a moment, the curiosity overwhelming him so much that his hand did move forward in an effort to expose her body before he checked himself, his fingers flexing nervously.

_What the bloody hell happened last night? _

His mind was full of memories. But surely, they couldn't be accurate. Carefully, Harry lied down once again on his back, bunching up the sheet he shared with the woman over his stomach in an effort to not draw attention to the only body part that wasn't groggy from the night before, and proceeded to think. Maybe he could make some sense of the pictures and sounds that were swirling in his head.

They had been celebrating. It was the end of Hogwarts for all of them and they had been celebrating. He remembered snippets of conversation, laughter and jokes re-lived. Firewhisky was flowing aplenty and everyone was in a good mood.

He had been talking to Luna. She had Hippogriff earrings dangling and if you got too close, the beak comes alive and snaps at you. Neville nearly lost a finger.  
>Harry frowned, his gaze falling on the woman beside him. He remembered all of that. But when did this happen?<p>

Concentrating hard, he backtracked, remembering that Dean and Seamus had found a new brew. 'It'll change your life,' Seamus said, 'bloody brilliant, it is.' Harry couldn't remember if anyone else had had it, but he did.

He groaned. Why in Merlin did he drink it? There was obviously something in it. But he was already high on Firewhisky, wasn't he? It wasn't like any sober person would say, 'No thanks, mate. I've had enough'.

Then Hermione had arrived.

He glanced once again at her back, the memory of how she entered the room flooding into his mind. She was wearing something, something nice. He couldn't remember what, but he did remember thinking that she looked bloody attractive. She was not much for drinks, but she socialized just the same, doing the rounds and talking to people as Harry watched her. And Merlin did  
>Harry watch her.<p>

It had been in a library.

Harry frowned. Why a library?

They were celebrating in Seamus's house. Hermione had gone off and Harry had followed her, to a library.

"Harry! You scared me!"

He had kissed her then, his kisses sloppy but his grip on her arm firm.

She pulled back. "You're drunk."

"I'm not." He kissed her again, and this time, he could have sworn that she kissed him back before she pulled back.

"You need to sleep it off." She grabbed his arm and led him somewhere, but Harry didn't care.  
>He walked a bit behind her so he could watch the way her arse moved in that dress. That's right; she wore a dress.<p>

They had reached the staircase landing when Harry had twisted his arm and twirled her successfully pinning her against the wall with his body.

"Harry." She had said his name, breathless, with something else hidden underneath.

He had liked it. He liked the way she said his name and felt against his body. He liked _her_.

"Harry," she said again, a weak protest as one hand fondled her breast while his mouth attacked her neck. She had arched against him, a hand tangling in his hair and causing him to shiver.

"Hermione," he whispered against her neck, his fingers trailing lower to the curves of her hip and arse as his lips rose to claim hers. She responded fervently, her other hand clutching his arm tightly as a lean thigh rose to circle his hips. He had been gradually hardening with each passing second, but feeling her legs opening for him, the centre of her thighs grinding against him, only made him feel rock hard. He pushed back against her, the slight friction making him groan and her whimper.

He wanted to take her then and there and he didn't care who saw. But Hermione did.

His fingers were trailing up her thigh, his lips continuing to assault hers when she pulled back once again, her gaze meeting his.

He thought she would say 'no'. He thought she would push him away and he would have to work out his frustration alone. But her eyes…There was a want there; he could see it. She wanted him.

"Not here," she whispered before untangling her leg from around him and leading him upstairs. Harry had followed patiently until she opened a door and led him in. He pinned her once again, this time to against the closed door before he easily pushed both his hands under her tight dress, causing it to gather around his waist as he lifted her up and nudged her to circle her legs around his waist. His lips met hers once again, the whimper that escaped her causing him to twitch with want.

His fingers had trailed over her, pulling and pushing until he had more skin to touch, more skin to taste. When they finally travelled lower until he reached the apex of her thighs, the wetness he felt there made him groan. Pushing her knickers aside, he had touched her, her warm flesh inviting and a finger easily slipping in. Hermione's kisses became rough then, the grip she had on him tightening further when he slipped in a second finger, then a third. She started moving against him haphazardly, moans escaping her as he pushed only to pull back. He met her with each movement, his thumb stroking the little nub that was connected to her nerves, teasing her until he felt her shudder against him. Her body was limp but far from spent.

"Bed," she whispered against his neck, a warm kiss accompanying the plea.

Harry had hardly noticed that they were in a bedroom, let alone the room had anything including a bed. He carried her easily; barely able to keep his hands or lips off her before he let her down gently, his weight falling on her. Before he could kiss her once again, she stopped him, a hand to his chest as she met his gaze. Gently, she lifted her hands and pulled off his glasses, placing them on the bedside table. Harry immediately missed the sight of her, although, a more primal need inside him just didn't care. _She was his_, that small part of him kept saying. She was giving herself to him. She was his. _And I am hers._

While before had some semblance of control, the moment her lips met his, Harry didn't pretend to have any control over his body. With quick fingers he divested her of her dress and knickers, his teeth pulling against silk and his fingers ripping material in an effort to get to her skin. Hermione's hands weren't complacent either; she pushed off his jacket, clawed off his shirt and fumbled with her zipper until she had him free and in her warm hand. Each stroke felt like a combination of heaven and hell and he wanted nothing more than to be inside her.

There was no preamble, no sweet words or looks of meaning. When Harry entered her, Hermione was guiding him, a soft moan escaping her as he buried himself slowly, the deeper he went the more his skin tingled with a mix of anticipation and pleasure. She felt gloriously tight and warm and wet, and he didn't wait long until he started moving.

She kissed him wickedly, her tongue darting out and meeting his as he met her thrust for thrust. Her nails clawed at his back while his own hand tweaked her nipples while the other gripped her hip hard. It was the most erotic, sexually meaningful experience of his life. For when Hermione's breathing became shallow, he moved faster, harder, until he had to swallow her scream with a kiss, her muscles tightening around him and finishing him off, leaving him tired, spent and happy as he collapsed onto her sweat slicked body. There was only one thought that had entered his mind as he kissed her gently, after: Merlin, did he love her.

Harry blinked up at the ceiling, the embarrassed flush he felt doing nothing to stop his little buddy from standing to attention when he thought of all that had happened the night before. His glance once again fell on his best friend. He didn't know who had slipped him the potion, it could have been Dean or Seamus or someone else. But he did know that he had slept with Hermione… and she had wanted him.

That thought was even more confusing than the fact that he had right out shagged Hermione. Twice, if he counted the time she had straddled him. And any red-blooded bloke would.

Harry kept staring at her naked back, his eyes studying the softness of her skin and the attractive dip that ran right down to her arse. He wanted nothing more than to get closer and trace her curves with his fingers before tracing it again with his tongue.

But then she stirred, and he gulped.

He watched nervously, his fingers piling more of the bed sheet in an effort to hide his little buddy.

It took a while, but Hermione finally turned around cautiously, her eyes squinting at him before they widened in realisation.

Harry couldn't help it; he grinned cheekily. Knowing that she was going to grab her wand and jinx him or worse, never speak to him again, he said softly, "Morning, Hermione."

The glare she sent him spoke volumes. "Harry…" she said slowly, forcefully, while she gripped the sheet to her in a last effort to keep her modest. "What happened last night?"

Harry sighed, his fingers checking the pile to make sure it hadn't shifted. This was going to be a long conversation.

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**A/N - Now for some shameless pimping. Preliminary Nominations for Round 1 of the Harmony Awards has now opened (link to be found on my profile). Go on and nominate your favourites because we really need your participation. Keep in mind, you need not have an LJ account to participate, and preliminary nominations close Sep. 23rd 11.59 p.m. EST. Simply comment to the nominations post :) **


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